Just One Of Those Things
by Echo1317
Summary: Oliver Wood is thirteen years, twenty-four days, six hours, thirty-three minutes, and fourteen seconds old the first time he notices her.  **Oliver/OC**
1. Part 1

**A/N** I really shouldn't start another story... but I am Slytherin, and I don't care for 'shouldn't's so I'm doing it anyway. (That's my new excuse for everything, in case anyone is wondering, though I'm sure no one is.

My first attempt at writing Oliver Wood. I hope I do him justice.

This story, by the way, is for my friend Stephanie, who is new to the Harry Potter fandom, and has fallen madly in love with Oliver. I know you've been super excited about this, I hope it lives up to your expectations! Fingers crossed...

**Disclaimer**: Do I LOOK like a 46-year-old British lady? (God, I hope not...) My point is that I don't own anything you recognize here. Or anything you don't recognize, as Stephanie belongs to... well, Stephanie.

**Edit: **Now all in present tense! Thank you, Grandma, for pointing that out XD

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><p><strong><span>I<span>**

Oliver Wood is thirteen years, twenty four days, six hours, thirty-three minutes, and fourteen seconds old the first time he notices her.

Though Quidditch practice is scheduled for five that evening, Oliver is out on the pitch at three twenty-nine. He is not entirely sure what all he can do to practice as Keeper without the rest of the team there, but he is sure there is _something_, because he is determined to be the best Keeper Hogwarts has ever seen, and lead his team to win the Quidditch Cup.

_Not your team_, He reminds himself hastily, throwing his leg over the old Comet he found in the broom cupboard, _Weasley's team_.

Charlie Weasley is reigning Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and has been for three years running. He plays Seeker, and fantastically so. Oliver is in his first year on the team after two previous years of trying and failing to be recruited. This year, he finally, _finally _made it, but only just, and now he is single-mindedly certain that he will hone his skills to be the best that they can be.

As he kicks off from the ground and soars up into the sky, Oliver's attention is diverted to a flash of yellow in the stands- someone's discarded scarf? No, he sees when he looks forward and focuses on the spot, it's not a scarf, its… a person. A girl. A little girl dressed in blue jeans and a black t-shirt, her hair the exact color of the Hufflepuff hosue ties- not just blond, but yellow, bright almost neon yellow. Oliver wonders briefly if she dyes it or if it's naturally that color. He's known the odd wizard or two to have hair like that; one of his parent's friends from Belgium has hair the color of a blue jay. He casts it from is mind as he zooms around the pitch, weaving and diving and twisting until he's a blur.

Here in the air, he is at home. More at home than he has ever felt anywhere.

The girl in the stands has a book in her lap that Oliver figures she is supposed to be reading, but he sees her glancing up every few seconds and following him with her eyes. After a few minutes, her book is closed and she is blatantly staring at him. It makes him just the slightest bit uncomfortable, as he isn't used to people staring at him like that, but he thinks that, if he is going to be a Quidditch star, he should get used to all eyes being on him. And, he reasons, if she wants a show, he should give one to her.

Oliver pivots his broom and soars straight up into the clouds and then lets go of the broom, lets himself go into a free fall. He spirals downward, and his head is dizzy and his stomach is sick and every nerve in his body is screaming for him to take hold of the broom and get back in control. Instead he spreads his arms wide, feeling the wind tear through his robes as he somersaults through the air. The air stings his face, going this fast. He's sure that if he opens his eyes and sees how high he is, how close he is to killing himself, he'd surely throw up.

He laughs, adrenalin coursing through his veins, because he is loving every minute of this.

Oliver knows he has come back into view of the pitch because he hears a scream coming from somewhere nearby. Without any hesitation he grabs hold of the broom handle and points the broom downward, opening his eyes just in time to pull up and avoid hitting the dirt floor of the pitch. He comes to a stop and then angles his broom upwards, popping up at the edge of the stands right in front of the girl with the yellow hair.

"Like what you see?" He says with a flirtatious smile, surprising himself so much that he can feel his cheeks burning as he blushes a bright red. The girl squeaks and her eyes widen, and just like that she is up out of her seat and running down the aisle.

She disappears down the stairs that lead away from the pitch.

**II**

In Oliver's first game, he takes a bludger to the head two minutes in and blacks out for a week.

He does not know that a whole week has passed when he wakes up in the Hospital Wing to Madam Pomfry fussing over him. He is _fine_, he insists, fit as a hippogriff, ready to go, he needs to be out on the pitch practicing or he's never going to win them the next game. Madam Pomfry takes none of his nonsense, and relegates him to two more days of bed rest before he is allowed to leave the wing. Oliver is distraught. He is angry, he is fuming, his is-

Looking at the girl who was staring at him at the Quidditch pitch last week. He stops mid-rant when he sees her, standing at the front of the room and appearing distinctly nervous about being there. He blinks a few times, because while he recognizes her face (and who could ever forget those eyes?), her hair is several shades more _purple _than he remembers it. Madam Pomfry snorts delicately when she realizes that he's looking at the girl.

"She's been here every evening since you fell off your broom," Madam Pomfry informs him sternly, as if she doesn't quite approve. "You ought to be quite thankful for her, young man, after receiving that level of devotion."

Oliver doesn't want to admit that he doesn't even know who she is.

When Madam Pomfry returns to her office, the girl awkwardly shuffles over and stands at the foot of his bed, clenching and unclenching her fists at her sides. Oliver isn't sure what to say- should he apologize for worrying her? Thank her for looking in on him? Ask her what she was doing looking in on him when they've only ever spoken once before?

She saves him from having to speak by lightly clearing her throat and opening her mouth. "My name's Stephanie. Stephanie Goldleaf."

"Oliver Wood," He says quickly, offering her his hand. She walks around to the edge of the bed and takes it, stiffly shaking it once before clasping both hands behind her back. "Do you, erm… visit lots of sick people?"

"No," She says, a light blush staining her pale cheeks. "I hadn't ever been to the hospital until last week when they brought you in. I was…" She hesitates. "Worried for you. That was a nasty hit you took."

"Rough game, Quidditch," Oliver tells her easily, smiling at her and making her cheeks redden considerably, "I've had worse back home."

He launches into a tale about being eleven and racing his brother through the orchards around their home, winning the race but for the price of a broken arm after falling off his broom and through a thicket of trees that didn't particularly like him. She sits down in the chair next to the bed, smiling and laughing with him, and listening to him in a way that he can't remember anyone ever having listened to him before.

Another week passes, and Oliver hasn't seen her since he's been in the Hospital Wing. It isn't all that surprising, seeing as they are in different years _and_ different houses. The age difference isn't really all that much, he tells himself, just a year. She'll be turning thirteen in a matter of weeks. And Hufflepuffs are alright. He doesn't talk to many of them, not out of prejudice but because he simply doesn't know any. Well, that isn't strictly true. He knows Tonks (Nymphadora is her first name, but no one calls her that unless they have a death wish), and she is great fun.

When Oliver walks into the Great Hall for breakfast, he spots Stephanie immediately. Her hair is a bright turquoise color today, and makes her stick out like a sore thumb. Even Tonks- a metmorphmagus, able to change her appearance at will- has been favoring her hair a dark sandy blond lately. Before he can lose his nerve, Oliver sits down in the empty seat across from her and says, rather loudly, "Hey!"

"Hi," Stephanie says, looking a bit startled, whether at the volume of his voice or the fact that he is sitting with her, he isn't sure. Perhaps it is both. "Um… what's up?"

"What do you do to your hair? To make it change colors like that," Oliver asks. He mentally slaps himself. That isn't what he'd planned, but there it is anyway. Oh, well. There will be time, and he _is _curious.

"My mother is a metmorphamagus," Stephanie explains tiredly, sounding as if she has explained this many times before. "I only inherited the ability to change my hair color. It's not exactly _useful_, but it's fun."

With that, Stephanie screws up her nose and squeezes her eyes shut, making Oliver's eyes widen in surprise as her hair slowly changes to a lime green color. When she opens her eyes, she laughs at his expression, and he smiles sheepishly. "That's pretty amazing."

"Eh, it's no big deal. Have you seen Tonks do her duck face?" Stephanie asks, seeming a touch more relaxed.

"I have," Oliver says, "But who could possibly want their face to look like that?" Stephanie laughs at this, and it puts Oliver at ease. He is going to go through with this now, which his confidence is up, because it he waits till later, he knows he'll never do it. "Hey, would you want to maybe go out with me sometime?"

Stephanie beams and is quick to say, "Yes. And I think that she just does it because it pisses off Snape." The smile abruptly drops from her face, and she blinks rapidly. "Wait, what just happened?"

Instead of replying, Oliver simply laughs and gets to his feet, leaning across the table to lightly kiss her on the forehead before shaking his head and exiting the Hall. When he reaches the corridor and the doors close behind him, he pumps his fist into the air and gives and excited "YES!" before composing himself and nodding politely to the group of professors who are staring at him.

**III**

On their first date, Oliver sets up a picnic blanket on the grass by the lake and has the house elves in the kitchens pack him a basket with food. He doesn't know what Stephanie likes to eat, so there is chicken, fish, beef. And then it occurs to him that maybe she doesn't eat meat at all, so he asks for salads, though he can't think of any other dishes that don't contain at least one type of meat. Just to be safe- in case she doesn't eat _any_ of the foods he's brought, he asks for half a dozen different desserts.

He won't admit it to anyone, but he is nervous. Oh, Merlin, is he nervous.

Having asked her to meet him under the tree that they both know at one that afternoon, he gets there an hour early just to make sure everything is absolutely perfect for her. This is when things begin to get messy. The picnic basket, that he has enchanted to have a limitless bottom, lands on it's side when he sets it on the ground, and he cringes because he can hear the dishes all falling down inside. He thinks he even hears some of them breaking. He digs the heels of his hands into his eyes because _oh Merlin it cannot get any worse_.

Oliver gingerly sets the basket right, recoiling as he hears the dishes shift inside. He opens up the lid and looks inside, slowly reaching his hand in and grasping something that can only be described as _slimy_. He shudders and drops whatever it was he touched back into the basket, wipes his fingers off on his pants, and sits down to wallow in misery for a while.

When Stephanie arrives, he is sitting on the blanket with his legs pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them, and his forehead is pressed against his knees in defeat. The picnic basket has been kicked over, the innards spilling out dangerously. Stephanie puts her hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle, but she must not be trying hard enough, because he lifts his head, groans and promptly drops it back to his knees.

Stephanie sits down next to him and presses her shoulder against his. She reaches into her robes and pulls out a bag of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, opening the drawstring and fishing for a piece. Oliver raises his head and begins to apologize, but is cut off as Stephanie shoves a small round piece of blue bubble gum into his mouth. As he chews, she pops a piece into her own and then lays back, folding her arms behind her head and staring up at the sky through the branches of the trees. Oliver stares at her for a moment before laying down beside her.

"I'm telling you, Tonks, I'm going to _marry_ that girl one day," Oliver continues his rant, much to the displeasure of his very bored friend. Tonks has been patient with him all day, and she is honestly not sure how much more of the boy she can take. "She's smart, and funny, and pretty, and-"

"How long have you known her?" Tonks says loudly, cutting him off. It is a Hogsmead weekend, and she is sure that, if not for her begging, Oliver would have stayed up at the castle with his new girlfriend. He blinks at her, clearly stunned that she would even interrupt him in when he is talking about _this_. (Quite frankly, his adoration of the little second year kind of creeps her out.)

"Almost two month," Oliver tells her after a moment's calculation. "It'll be two months next Tuesday."

"Merlin," Tonks mutters under her breath, pausing in front of the Quidditch shop to admire the broom in the window. A Comet180, the fastest model to date. She sighs longingly- she's got no real skill on the pitch, but she would _love _to have a broom like that. Oliver tugs on her arm, pulling her into the shop behind him. She continues staring at the Comet, until he turns her around holds up a muddy brown sweater with the Puddlemere United logo on it. He looks at her expectantly, but she does not, in fact, know what he expects her to do. "Erm… brown isn't really my color, Ollie."

"It's not for you, it's for Stephanie," Oliver snaps, as if it ought to be the most obvious thing in the world. "You know her, right? Do you think she'd like it? Or what about these?" He reached out to the nearest display and came back with a gold pendant of two crossed bulrushes, matching the logo on the sweatshirt. "Puddlemere is her favorite team, so I thought I'd get something for her."

Without any warning whatsoever, Tonks bursts into laughter.

Oliver is immediately offended. "Just because you never think to do anything nice for _your_ significant other-"

"That's not what I'm laughing over," Tonks chokes out, "Okay, first of all, 'significant other'? What are you, a fourty-year-old married man? That's just sad. And second, Stephanie _hates_ Quidditch. You ought to hear her arguing with Diggory in the common room some nights-"

"She does not," Oliver protests, but Tonks can tell from the look on his face that he doubts himself, "She told me the other day-"

"On your _first_ date," Tonks says, wiping the tears of mirth from her eyes, "When _you _ranted on about how much you loved Quidditch for half the day."

"So?"

"Has it occurred to you that maybe she was just going along with it so that you'd think you have something in common?" Tonks asks, and at this, Oliver blanches. She pats his shoulder. "Tough break, mate. I'm gonna run down to the Broomsticks and get us a table."

When Tonks leaves, Oliver puts back the necklace, but decides to get the sweatshirt anyway.

When Oliver gets back up to the castle that afternoon, he asks Stephanie who her favorite player for Puddlemere is. She stumbles and stutters for a good minute before breaking and telling him that she really knows nothing about Quidditch, has never been interested in it at all, and that she only knew that Puddlemere was a legitimate team because she'd heard one of her cousins talk about it once.

"Please don't be mad at me," She pleads, "It's just that you love Quidditch so much, and I thought you wouldn't want to go with me anymore if I didn't like it too, because we'd have nothing to talk about."

"I'm not mad, I promise," Oliver soothes her, taking her hand in his own and making her blush, "We'll find other things to talk about."

They do. And when the end of the year comes, both are so reluctant to leave each other that they are the last to get off the train.

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><p>Review? Please? Virtual Drooble's for everyone who reviews!<p>

-Rachel


	2. Part 2

**A/N **WARNING! Excessive use of the word 'Weasley'. There's a reason for it, though.

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><p><strong>Part 2<strong>

**I**

The new school year is starting, and there is a rumor that Charlie Weasley is stepping down as Quidditch captain. He needs to study for his NEWTs, he says, but Oliver thinks that it might have something more to do with his steady girlfriend, Sheila, complaining that he doesn't spend enough time with her. (No one likes Sheila. Except Charlie Weasley.) Oliver is disappointed, to say the least. Charlie Weasley is the best captain the team has seen in ages. It just won't be the same without him. What are they going to _do_?

Two weeks into the school year (two weeks after Oliver has already been practicing eight days a week on his own), Charlie Weasley calls the first team meeting of the year, where he announces that he is indeed retiring.

"Now," Charlie Weasley says, getting to the end of his long, heartfelt speech, "The last order of business is naming my replacement."

Oliver can feel the disappointment creeping up on him like a fog. No matter how badly he wants it, he knows it won't be him.

"Some of you are not going to be happy with my decision," Charlie Weasley says, staring pointedly at two of the older members of the team, seventh years like himself, "Especially those of you who have seniority on your side and haven't been chosen."

Oliver perks his head up.

"This person is the most skilled player in their position that I've seen in a long time," Charlie Weasley goes on, everyone staring at him intently. "They've got great ethic, and they're obviously in love with the game. They're very diplomatic, and that's a very important quality-"

"Get on with it, Weasley," Fred Weasley, Charlie Weasley's younger brother and one of the new team beater along with his twin, George, shouts out, making Charlie Weasley wag his finger at them.

"Alright then." Charlie Weasley shrugs. Oliver sees stars, because Charlie Weasley walks to stand beside him and clap him on the shoulder. "Oliver Wood is our new captain."

Oliver is sure he blacks out for a moment.

The next thing he knows, he is inside the castle, running around, whooping with joy. He hugs a random first year who squeaks with terror, but he ignores it as he rounds the corner, intent to share his excitement with absolutely everyone. He sees Stephanie, his girlfriend of now almost ten months, and without thinking about it, he calls out her name, runs towards her, sweeps her up into his arms, and plants a kiss on her mouth.

This isn't really what Stephanie had imagined their first kiss would be like. Of all the scenarios she has come up with, none of them involved Quidditch. But, hey, if that's what makes him finally take the hint and just _do it_, she'll take it.

When he pulls away, his eyes go wide and his face turns red. Stephanie just grabs him by the collar, and pulls him in for another kiss.

**II**

After three and a half months of a blissfully perfect relationship, Oliver has run into a problem.

It shouldn't be a problem. He knows her well enough by now that he ought to be able to do this without help. But the date is fast approaching, and he still has no clue what to do. If he doesn't think of something soon, he'll get the award for Worst Boyfriend Ever before he can say 'Quidditch'. Oliver is royally screwed.

He has no idea what to get Stephanie for her birthday.

Charlie Weasley suggests a piece of jewelry, but she doesn't wear a lot of jewelry as it is, and he'd like to get her something she'll use. When he says this, Charlie Weasley suggests he get her a piece of clothing. But he doesn't know her size, and what if he gets the wrong one and offends her? Too small and she'll think she's fat. Too big and she'll think he thinks she's fat. Either way, she gets upset, and he is not willing to risk it. After ten or so rejected ideas, Charlie Weasley tells him to go ask someone else.

So, he does. She has a friend, Rachel, in Slytherin, and though Oliver is by no means afraid of the house, he is still somewhat nervous walking up to the girl one afternoon between classes and asking her what he should get Stephanie. Rachel says to get her something to remind her of him, and he thinks that this is perfect, but it still doesn't _help_ him. So she offers to take him shopping in Hogsmead the next weekend- the day before Stephanie's birthday. He reluctantly agrees, because this is his Last Resort, and if he doesn't find anything then, he will just have to get on his knees and beg for mercy.

When they go to the village, Rachel drags him into the Quidditch shop first thing. Oliver isn't sure what she expects him to find here, but he goes along without question because he is just that desperate. He looks around, and while Rachel goes over to look at miniature model brooms, Oliver's eyes stray to the glass display box at the counter. Something catches his eye-

There it is. It's _perfect_.

"Open it, open it, open it!" Oliver commands as he shoves a small blue box into his girlfriend's hand excitedly. Stephanie laughs and turns the box over in her hands as if inspecting it. Very very slowly, she begins to untie the ribbon, and Oliver can't help but think that _no one _in the history of the world has ever taken four and a half minutes to untie a bow.

She spends the next seven minutes carefully unwrapping the box, taking care not to rip the paper or damage the tape holding it in place. She's really very excited to see what Oliver's gotten her, but more than that, she likes watching him squirm in anticipation. He may actually be more excited than she is.

Finally, _finally_, she gets around to unfastening the silver clasp that is holding the box closed, and she opens the box up, and Oliver has no idea what she thinks of it because her face remains blank.

Inside the box, nestled on a pillow of periwinkle colored crushed velvet is a tiny wooden ball, about half an inch in diameter, dented in places and with a small gold hoop screwed into the top that is threaded with a delicate gold chain.

"It's a quaffle," Oliver says enthusiastically, pointing to the charm in the box. "And that there sticking out of the top is one of the hoops that I guard as Keeper." Stephanie is still not saying anything, so he elaborates. "Charlie Weasley said that I should get you something girly, like jewelry, and Rachel said to get something to remind you of me, so I thought this was a good compromise. If you don't like it, I can take it back and you can choose something you like better-"

"I love it, Ollie," Stephanie breathes, petting the charm lightly with her index finger. A large smile abruptly breaks out over her face, and she sets the box down so that she can throw her arms around his neck and kiss him.

**III**

"We are never going to win again," Oliver says dramatically, slumping down in his seat. "Without Charlie Weasley, we are nothing. We have no team!"

"It's not that bad," Stephanie assures him flipping through an old back issue of the Quibbler. It is the only thing she could find to read, with the rest of her things in the luggage compartment of the train. The year has passed by way too fast for her taste once again. It seems as though yesterday she was just reuniting with Oliver, and now she is about to say goodbye to him again. "You'll find another Seeker."

"Not one like Charlie Weasley," Oliver groans, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. "He was quick, and agile, and have you ever actually _seen_ the way he moves on a broom? It's like art, like he's dancing in mid-air-"

"Okay, are you in love with him or something?" Stephanie asks, closing her magazine and setting it down on the seat next to her. "Because that's what you're making it sound like."

Oliver snorts in response. "No. It's just a damn shame, is all. We were so close this year, if he was staying on for just one more season we might've been able to win it all."

"So close?" Stephanie repeats, "You lost to Ravenclaw in the third to last match two hundred-eighty to ninety."

Oliver scowls. "We could've beat them if out Chasers had been competent enough to get the ball."

"They're all leaving, too, right?" Stephanie inquires, and Oliver nods in affirmative. "Good. You can build a whole new team. With better players."

"There is _no one_ better than Charlie Weasley."

"Why do you use his full name all the time?" She asks, cocking her head to the side curiously as she rifles through her bag for another magazine.

"I…" Oliver begins, but then realizes he doesn't know how to finish the sentence. "I don't know."

"Well, it doesn't matter," Stephanie says, but now Oliver can't stop thinking about it. "You'll win next year, with your new and improved team."

Oliver doesn't respond, and Stephanie chalks it up to the mini-depression he has fallen into since he realized that Charlie Weasley wouldn't be back next year. She lets him sulk, because quite frankly, it is getting kind of old.

Really, Oliver is wondering why he calls Charlie Weasley by his full name whenever he mentions him. In fact, he even does it when he's thinking. He is even doing it now. It's the oddest thing, and he never would have noticed it if Stephanie hadn't pointed it out.

Oliver ponders this all the way back to London, and most of the summer, until he realizes that it doesn't really matter. Then he starts to wonder why every little offhanded thing she says _does._

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><p>I hope this was worth the wait, Steph :)<p>

And reviews are always appreciated!

-Rachel


	3. Part 3

**A/N** Another short chapter, but I really liked writing this one.

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><p><strong>Part 3<strong>

**I**

There is a moment in his fifth year when Oliver finds Stephanie crying in the hallway, and he thinks his heart is breaking because he has never seen her look this _sad_. She, who runs around the castle with a permanent smile of her face, the physical embodiment of happiness, she should never, _ever_ look like that.

He crouches down in front of her, taking her hand in his. "What's the matter, sunshine?"

Through her tears, she mumbles something about a rabbit, and old age, and how he just wouldn't _move_ this morning when she went to feed him. Oliver gathers that her pet rabbit, Hoppy, who he knows she has had since she was four (hence the name 'Hoppy'), has kicked the bucked after ten long years. Stephanie latches onto him and he lets her cry on his shoulder. She tells him that she just wishes she had had more time with him- she didn't even get to say goodbye.

It is at this point that Oliver has an idea, which is what leads all the members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team- including their new Seeker, the infamous Harry Potter- to the edge of the forest on Saturday morning. They crowd around a four foot deep hole in the ground, in which has been placed a large shoe-box containing the remains of one Hoppy Goldleaf. Everyone looks respectably sad, even though there are other, more important things that they would all rather be doing, and they are only here because Oliver threatened to cut them from the team if they didn't show.

"Dearly beloved," Oliver begins, even though he is quite certain that funerals do not begin with the phrase, "We are gathered here today to mourn the loss of Hoppy the rabbit. He was a good rabbit, very… hoppy. If Hoppy had had a house, it would have been Hufflepuff, because he was fiercely protective of his mother, Stephanie, always ready to bite the hand that tried to touch her while she was holding him. He was a loyal rabbit, a very happy rabbit, and he will be missed."

Stephanie sniffles beside him, and Oliver puts his arm around her. The team shifts uncomfortably, until Oliver motions for each of them to step forward and throw a handful of dirt over Hoppy's coffin.

"Bye, Hoppy," Stephanie says quietly when it is her turn, holding Oliver's hand and simultaneously dropping dirt into the hole. The rest of the team is dismissed and Stephanie takes a seat on a tree stump while Oliver levitates the rest of the dirt to cover the grave. He takes a large grey stone and puts it over the patch of freshly dug up and put back dirt, using his wand to carve the rabbit's name into its surface.

Stephanie smiles at him, suddenly aware of just how much of a hold she has over the boy in front of her. How many other girls could say that their boyfriends had held a funeral for their rabbit?

The next week in Hogsmead, Oliver looks into the window display of the menagerie and sees a jet-black kitten with purple eyes staring at him. The sign in the window proclaims her as Lydie, and underneath the name is the price of fifty galleons.

He walks into the shop empty handed and walks out with a small animal carrier, a bag that has, among other things, a rhinestone collar, and a pick-me-up for his sunshine.

**II**

"This is our year," Oliver tells Stephanie before the first Quidditch game of the season, "I just know it. With Potter on our side, we're going to take home the Cup."

"I am sure you will," Stephanie says, though she doesn't sound it, "But I don't want you to get your hopes up too much, okay?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Oliver asks slightly irritably. Does she not believe in him? In the team? It makes his blood boil and his throat constrict all at once.

"It means that you've got an amazing team, but it's Potter's first year, and he's been playing Quidditch for about a week," She does believe that _he _can do this. It's just the rest of them she's worried about. "Ollie, I just don't want to see you crushed if you lose."

"We're not going to lose, Steph," He says, all confidence, "Have a little faith, would you?"

"Okay," Stephanie says, too tired to argue this again. (She hasn't exactly argued it with him _before_, but she's gone over it so many times in her head that she may as well have. She kisses Oliver on the cheek. "Good luck, Ollie." -but he can sense that she still has her doubts.

When Gryffindor beats Slytherin, Oliver has to resist the urge to rub it in Stephanie's face. Instead, he just kisses her, long and slow and deep, and hopes she gets the message that way.

**III**

_This_ close. They were _this_ close, and then Potter had to get himself landed in the Hospital Wing and throw off Oliver's whole strategy. The Gryffindor team has just lost terrifically to Ravenclaw of all teams, suffering it's greatest defeat in three hundred years.

Oliver lands on the grass of the Quidditch pitch and drops his broom, leaving it where it falls and stalking off the field. The other members of his team share a look as he heads not for the changing rooms, but for a side exit that leads out of the pitch and back towards the castle. Rather than go to the changing rooms themselves, they follow their captain, somewhat out of curiosity, but mostly out of worry over what he will do after such a loss.

Oliver has always had a flare for the dramatic, so none of his teammates are particularly surprised when he doesn't stop at the edge of the lake. No, he wades right on it to the water, marching when it slopes and gets deeper. They watch, dumbfounded, until he is almost completely submerged, and then, with a final step, the top of his head is under the water.

His hand pops up above the surface, springing Fred and George into action. They jump into the lake after Oliver, diving under and popping up a few seconds later, one of them on either side of Oliver and dragging him from under the arms out of the water. They deposit him on the edge of the lake and the rest of the team joins them in standing over him for several minutes. He makes no move to get up, just staring straight up into the sky and blinking morosely every few seconds. When they are satisfied that he will not attempt to drown himself again, they stalk back to the changing rooms, leaving him there to wallow in his grief.

He isn't sure how long he has been laying there before a figure is suddenly blocking his line of sight again. After staring at the bright sky for so long, his eyes take a moment to adjust to the shade before he sees that it's Stephanie. Her expression is unconcerned, almost bored, he thinks. She pushes her hair back behind her ear and stares at him for a while. He stares back.

"Are you going to come back to the castle any time soon?" Stephanie enquires.

"No," Oliver says miserably. He doesn't move, so Stephanie sits down near his head and he watches her watch the lake. After a while he rolls onto his side and curls into a ball, his head resting on her leg. She plays with his hair and he puts his hand on her knee, toying with the frayed edge of the hole there.

They sit until after the sun has set, when she takes him by the hand and leads him back up to the castle.

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><p>Review make me smile. Like this: :D<p>

-Rachel


	4. Part 4

**A/N** Really short and really late but I hope you like it Stephanie :D 

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><p><strong>Part 4<strong>

**I**

"I have something to show you," Oliver sings, tugging at Stephanie's sleeve. She mumbles something unintelligible and shakes him off. He sighs theatrically, flopping down in one of the many hard wood chairs the library offers. This place has become Stephanie's second home lately; she and her friends study for their OWLs relentlessly, so much so that Oliver has hardly seen her since they arrived back at school.

"But I want to show you _now_," Oliver whines, thunking his forehead down on the table dramatically. He hopes that this will get her attention. It doesn't, and he feels like a fool when the seventh years down the table stare at him. He lifts his head and hooks his finger in her collar. "Steph, please…"

"You have thirty seconds," Stephanie says, lifting her quill from the paper and looking up at him expectantly. She frowns at the sight of him. "What happened to your forehead?"

"Fred came by and thwak-ed me with his beater's bat," Oliver says sarcastically, and Stephanie rolls her eyes, looking back down at her paper. "No, wait! I still have twenty-five seconds."

"Twenty," Stephanie corrects. "Go."

Oliver holds up his hands. Stephanie raises her eyebrows. He shows her his sleeves, proving that there is nothing up them. She is still perplexed. He puts his hands behind his back and comes up with a bouquet of blue-colored roses, offering them to her.

"It's a muggle trick," He explains when she still gives him that blank look that makes him want to start laughing. He doesn't, because he knows if he does he'll get one of those big, heavy textbooks she favors thrown at him. Instead, he decides to throw her a curve ball. "Want to come home with me at Christmas to meet my parents?"

Stephanie drops her quill and tackles him in a hug that rocks the chair onto it's back legs.

**II**

Christmas passes quicker than Oliver cares for, the whole thing seeming to be shortened by the fact that he brings Stephanie home. His father fawns over her (he's always wished Oliver had been a girl, but has never admitted it), his mother warms up to her almost immediately (no one will ever be good enough for her baby boy, but this one is just too amazing to drive off with pitchforks), and his older brother, Andrew, is firmly committed to getting the girl to marry Oliver.

By the time they arrive back at school, Stephanie feels like one of the family, especially after Andrew has carried her to the nearby beach and dumped her unwillingly into the ocean on Christmas Eve. Stephanie did not appreciate this gesture, or his explanation that it was his way of inducting her to the Wood clan. (Oliver speculates that this was just Andrew's way of getting to see Stephanie in a wet white shirt. Pervert.)

The lake is still quite cool in the month of May, but that does not stop Stephanie from dragging Oliver down the sit at its edge every other that he doesn't have practice. It's a quiet place, the lake, and she knows where the other couples like to hang out (such as the Malfoy kid and his girlfriend, that Weasley girl who ended up in Slytherin, or Rachel and Stephan, who are so disgustingly in love that its getting to be a problem), so she knows exactly where to go so that they won't run into anyone else.

It is on one of these days that something dawns on Oliver, and he abruptly removes his head from Stephanie's lap and sits up. She looks up from her book to see his concerned expression and instantly assumes the worst.

"Everything alright?" She asks warily, closing her book and placing it to the side. Oliver puts his finger under her chin and promptly says-

"I've never told you that I love you, have I?"

Stephanie is sure that her face has never been a brighter shade of red.

"Erm, no," She eventually sputters. Oliver nods once.

"Well, now I've told you," He says very seriously. "I love you."

"The feeling is mutual," Stephanie says, and despite her initial assumption, her face does indeed get redder. "I've loved you since that day on the Quidditch pitch. When you asked me if I liked what I saw."

At that, Oliver gets a goofy grin on his face, and Stephanie can't help but kiss him.

**III**

Oliver is not sure why his girlfriend is sitting on his shoulders.

They are sitting on the grass under a tree by the lake, a spot that she liked to sit and do homework. One minute, all is well as they lounged on the ground, and the next Stephanie screams and scrambles up Oliver's torso until she is perched atop his shoulders, her fingers tangled in his hair so hard that he is afraid she might start ripping up chunks of scalp.

"Erm," Oliver says nonchalantly; he knows how touchy his girlfriend can be sometimes about certain things. "Everything alright up there?"

"_Snake!_" Stephanie shrieks, tugging at his hair nervously. "There's a snake in the grass! Get it! Get it! Kill it, Ollie!"

"A snake?" Oliver asks dubiously. Above him Stephanie nods, and though he can't see her, he has no doubt that her answer is yes. "Where?"

Stephanie tugs his hair again, swiveling his head in the direction of the creature, and he regrets having asked. "Right there!"

In the grass to the left of their blanket is a small garden snake, so green and fine that it blends in nicely with its surroundings. He vaguely wonders how Stephanie spotted it, and how well she would do as a seeker if she has that keen of an eye.

"If you want me to do anything about it, you have to get down," Oliver tells her, and she removes her hands from his hair. He hears some shuffling before the weight is suddenly removed from his shoulders. He turns around to face Stephanie- only to find that she isn't there. A small cluster of leaves fall from the tree behind him, and Oliver looks up to see Stephanie clinging with her arms _and _legs to the lowest hanging branch. He simply stares at her for a moment before looking back to the snake and crawling over to where it is innocently laying.

Oliver gently plucks the snake from the grass with two fingers, and holds it in front of his face. It hisses its tiny red tongue out at him, and while Stephanie continues to shriek behind him, Oliver can't help but think… well…

"Its kind of cute," He says with a grin, and the only response Stephanie gives is a scream.

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><p>Reviews are always lovely :3<p>

xRachel


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